Chapter 14
August
“You’re a fucking stud, eh?”
August’s head shot up at the sound of Jett’s voice, shocked that he had crossed the redline to talk to him. Niko was there too, elbowing the shorter man in a half-hearted attempt to push him back to where he came from, but Jett refused to move.
August glanced around at his teammates, but since Jett was only talking and not being aggressive, they continued with their equipment checks and left them alone.
“You decided to show up and play hockey tonight, Snow?” Jett rested his arm on the ledge of the rink wall and tipped into the box, grinning like a fiend.
“Good job, buddy. I know I’m not supposed to say that, with you guys being the enemy and all, but I appreciate how fun you’re making this cup rematch for me. ”
Niko looked torn between wanting to punch his former teammate in the mouth and jumping the wall to hold August back if he decided to fight.
There was no reason to fight. August had said worse things about himself this week, so in his current state, Jett’s chirp had the same effect as a puppy yipping.
“You talk a big game for someone with no goals on the scoreboard,” said August. “It’s a shame the Sunbursts traded their only talented player to us.”
Jett shrugged and laughed. “I’ll have three by the end of the second period.”
August purposely took a drink, staring Jett down, making him wait patiently for his response. “Then I guess I’ll get three more by the final buzzer.”
Jett straightened, golden eyes glittering at hearing the challenge. “Going for the double hattie? I see how it is, Gusty. I’ll make sure to stay on my toes.”
“You could stay on your toes all day, and you still wouldn’t get any taller, Fraser,” August chirped. “Go ask your coach to teach you something.”
Beside him, his fellow defenceman, Simon Skarsg?rd, cackled into his glove. August was rusty in the banter department, but the way Jett’s mouth dropped open told him that he had done a good job.
“Killinger! Back over the line!” The ref called, holding his whistle in warning. They had finished cleaning the hats off the ice, and it was time to play.
Jett gave August a wink and smacked Niko on the ass, gliding over the redline to join his captain for their briefing before the puck dropped.
There were still five minutes left in the first period, and August had tons of gas left in the tank. He knew even with a three-point lead, the Sunbursts were capable of coming back and winning by a landslide, so they couldn’t afford to slack.
And yeah, he was on a heater right now. The migraine he’d been battling for the last week refused to go the fuck away, but it hurt less whenever he heard the sound of the goal horn blast through the arena.
That gave him an excuse to go out and do it more.
The whistle blew, and the puck hit the ice, wrangled away by the captain of the Sunbursts, Ryan Bracken. Jett was flying down the ice, and August cringed when he thought about the playoffs last season and the memories of being sent out against Jett’s line every time.
The speed Fraser could achieve was terrifying, and even without Niko on the other wing, he was going to be a pain in the ass to play against all year.
A sharp tap to August’s shoulder from Coach told him he was going, but he was confused when Coach barked Callahan’s line at him.
He was switching lines?
August didn’t know what Fedorov was thinking putting him with Niko and Callahan, but it wasn’t his place to question.
Fraser’s shot rang off the pipes, and the crowd cheered as the Bigfoots took possession of the puck. The Sunburst team retreated into their zone, but when Fraser saw August hop the wall for the line change, he stayed out.
Callahan took the puck behind the net and whipped around, charging center ice with Niko on his left and August on his right. Fraser was on Niko before Callahan passed him the puck, but he was already a minute into his shift, and his movements looked slow when matched against Niko.
Niko’s cut through the Sunburst team was so smooth that had August blinked, he would have missed it. Wolf caught Niko at the net and forced him to bank around in a flash of steel and spraying ice, and because he knew Niko, August made sure he was waiting on the goalie’s open side.
August went to one knee when Niko spotted him, and the puck rocketed through the tangle of bodies in front of the Sunburst net. Rubber hit tape, slapping off his stick with a loud clap and bypassing Callahan, who was grappling with another Sunburst defenceman near the edge of the crease.
The horn blasted, lights flashed, and August had just enough time to steady himself on two legs when three of his teammates crashed into him.
“Holy shit!” Niko punched August’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. “Dude! What the fuck?!”
August grinned, but the celebration was short-lived when the cheering crowd turned angry, and he looked over Niko’s head to see Callahan getting shoved around by the Sunburst goalie and a few players.
And because that was their fucking captain, the four of them rushed the net and joined the scrum, ignoring whistles and the grabbing hands of the linesmen.
Niko may have been a Sunburst once, but the kid had a fucking temper and no patience for bullies. Detlef Wolf, a notoriously scrappy defenceman for the Sunbursts, turned on Niko the second his gloves were off, not moving fast enough to dodge a punch aimed for his face.
Surprisingly, Fraser was there to back Wolf up, but August put a stop to any plans of retaliation by wrapping an arm around his neck, knocking the helmet clean off Fraser’s curly blond hair.
“Motherfucker!” Fraser kicked his feet and tried to pry August’s arm away, but the strength difference between them was too vast. “Fucking Frosty the Snowman sonofabitch!”
August laughed because Fraser was hilarious when he was angry, and his foul mouth was something he was well-acquainted with.
The fight was dying down, and the players were being separated, but Niko was still throwing punches at Wolf despite Callahan’s attempts to pull him back.
Wolf spat a mouthful of blood onto the ice, and his obnoxious laughter carried over the hundreds of people cheering and smashing the glass, further spurring Niko on.
“Tell your fucking goalie to open his eyes and stop being a baby!” The defenceman on August’s team shouted, lunging for Bracken like the dumbass he was.
And that was all the reason Bracken needed to drop his gloves and start a new round of fist fighting.
August sighed as the whistles continued to blow, and the roar of the fans grew so loud that the walls started shaking.
“Okay—” Fraser slapped his arm. “Can we—fucking hold hands or something? The only person I like to be choked by is my husband.”
Right. Husband. Fraser wasn’t Fraser; he was Killinger.
Naw.
Deciding to play nice, August loosened his grip around Fraser’s neck and took hold of his wrist as requested. They probably looked dumb as fuck standing there holding hands, watching the chaos unfold, but August couldn’t risk a fight.
He was aware of his size and strength, and he had no intent to put anyone in the hospital tonight. Besides, someone would have to play hockey for their team once the dust cleared.
“Fucking ruffian,” Jett rasped. “You know Harrison is going to kick your ass for hurting me.”
August was shaking in his skates.
“Harrison should have married a tennis player if he didn’t want to see his guy get hurt.”
Fraser’s gasp was loud enough to draw the attention of the nearest linesman, who stopped to check that they weren’t fighting before returning to end the current one.
“Wanna grab a drink after the game?” Jett asked, brushing off August’s comment like he hadn’t been offended in the slightest. “Neeks said he was coming, but he told me you might not be in the mood.”
The fight finally settled enough for the aggressors to be separated, and August took the moment of reorganization to think of his answer. He would like to hang out with Fraser, but he wasn’t really…in the best mindset.
“Next time,” said August. He wanted to give him an excuse, but when he thought about it, his throat tightened. “Nice holding hands with you, Fraser.”
“It’s fucking Killinger,” Jett snapped, tearing his hand from August’s grip.
“I know you’re fucking Killinger.” August grinned and pushed toward his gathering teammates. “No need to talk about your sex life on the ice. We get it.”
Fraser’s angry sputtering got cut off by the call announcing the penalties, and August watched as Niko and Callahan stormed toward the gate. Callahan got in the bin, but Niko hurried down the chute with a curse that rang above the crowd.
When it was all sorted, the Bigfoots had to play four-on-four hockey with two of their best players gone, against a team that had Jett Fraser—Killinger.
Jett needed a cooldown, so August was called off the ice as soon as the puck dropped and the lines switched. Coach wanted him fresh for when Fraser was unleashed, which was the only real chance they had at holding their lead.
August downed water fast, his eyes never leaving the ice. He really needed to start remembering his teammates’ names, but the sharp pain behind his eye made thinking about anything other than the game impossible. It was both a curse and a blessing—one he was still learning to manage.
The Sunburst offence kept the Bigfoots pinned in their zone, but after a failed shot and a quick turnover, the shift changed again. The instant his teammate cleared the ice, August vaulted over the wall and hit the rink at full speed.
Jett was already moving, cutting across center ice with that effortless speed that made him so damn dangerous.
August pivoted hard, digging his blades into the ice as he closed the gap, forcing Jett wide.
The roar of the crowd swelled as they met at the blueline, sticks clashing in a burst of sound and motion.